


Res Ipsa Loquitur

by superstringtheory



Series: Law School AU [1]
Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Caretaking, F/M, First Kiss, Fluff, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Gay BFF Kevin Keller, Getting Together, Hurt/Comfort, Law School, Pining, Secret Crush, Sick Character, Sickfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-17
Updated: 2018-11-17
Packaged: 2019-08-25 01:04:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,457
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16651339
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/superstringtheory/pseuds/superstringtheory
Summary: Law school AU. Jughead misses the last study session before a law school exam. Betty worries (and nurses her raging crush). Kevin ships it.





	Res Ipsa Loquitur

**Author's Note:**

> Res ipsa loquitur: a legal doctrine commonly used to mean that “the thing speaks for itself.” 
> 
> A lot of this is based on my own law school experience (minus the getting together with my secret crush). The making out and puking part at a Bar Review did happen to a friend of mine, though!

The first indication that something is off is the text. 

 

 **Jughead Jones:** _gonna skip the study group tonight, I’m falling asleep. Sorry guys!_

 

First off, Jughead skipping a study group: highly unusual. Second, Jughead Jones admitting that he slept like a normal person? Seriously indicative of something strange. 

 

Betty might only be a third and a half of a lawyer so far, but she thinks that something is afoot. 

 

Her phone buzzes with another message in the group chat. 

 

 **Veronica Lodge:** _don’t be expecting to use our full outline then, moocher!_

 

Ouch. Betty covers her mouth to hide a silent laugh. She’s already in the law school library, going over notes at a table deep in the stacks, and she doesn’t want dirty looks from her fellow students for bursting into laughter during final exam panic. She’s heard of people getting chewed out for typing too loudly. 

 

Another message arrives quickly. 

 

 **Archie Andrews:** _what Ronnie means to say is that she’s grateful for all the work you’ve put into our shared outline and she’ll be happy to send you the final draft tonight._

 

Betty bites her lip, picturing the bitchy look Veronica is probably giving her boyfriend right this second. She taps at her phone.

 

 **Betty Cooper:** _no worries, Jug. Hang in there, only one exam left!_

 

God. Could she third-wheel, nice-girls-finish-last, friendzone herself any more if she tried? 

 

She flips listlessly through her Criminal Law textbook and looks through her notes again, not really taking anything in. 

 

Jughead’s never skipped out on study group before, so why would he now, on the eve of their final exam, to take a  _ nap _ ? She bites her lip for an entirely different reason, thinking about how if anyone would know Jughead Jones’ habits, it’s probably her. She’s had a raging crush on him since they met at orientation, and she’d lucked out at having him in her small section, meaning that they shared all their classes in the first year. 

 

And now it’s 2L year and what’s come of it? Nothing more than the knowledge that Jughead Jones doesn’t leave his study group high and dry because he’s a little tired. There has to be something more to it. 

 

She presses her eyes closed like that will do anything, and yup, there it is: the clear-as-day memory of kissing Jughead Jones at the tail end of the first Bar Review of 1L year, sloppily shoving her tongue into his mouth (he hadn’t protested!), and then throwing up on his shoes. 

 

Safe to say, they hadn’t exactly started dating. And she’s sure Jughead doesn’t think of her that way. She’s just the drunk girl who kissed him once and then turned out to be a study group friend. Nothing more. 

 

Sure, she gets shivers up her spine every time their hands brush during study group, or when she watches the way he chews on the end of a highlighter, brow furrowed in concentration. But that doesn’t mean anything, right? It’s just a schoolgirl crush. No matter if she’s a law student and supposed to be a grown ass woman. 

 

Betty’s still thinking about Jughead throughout the study group session- it’s hard not to, considering that he’s never missed a meeting before. Archie, Veronica, and Kevin seem normal, like the empty chair isn’t mocking them the way it is Betty. Like they can breathe in and get full lungfuls of air. 

 

Right now, Veronica is going through the elements of assault and how they pertain to battery, but Betty’s not paying attention.  

 

Her phone buzzes in her lap, and Betty sneaks a look down at it. 

 

**Kevin Keller:** _ you’re so distracted tonight. I bet it’s because your cutie’s not here _

 

She types back immediately. 

 

**Betty Cooper:** _ he’s not MY cutie _

 

 **Kevin Keller:** _i’m not wrong though_

 

“Excuse me?” Veronica leans in. “Is this about the exam or is this about Betty not being able to keep her eyes on anything if it’s not Jones?” 

 

Kevin snickers, and Betty feels herself flush from the tip of her toes to her ponytail. 

 

“Um.” 

 

Kevin breaks in for her. “She wants to know where Jughead is. It’s not like him to miss study group, especially right before an exam.” 

 

Veronica sighs and rolls her eyes. 

 

“Two minutes.” 

 

“What?” Betty tucks a bit of hair behind her ear. 

 

“Take two minutes and call Jones so we can all get back to reviewing the outline.” Veronica raises an eyebrow like Betty should already be dialing, and Betty jumps up from the table. 

 

“I’ll be right back.” She quietly closes the door and goes into the middle of a stack of Federal Reporters and finds Jughead’s name in her contacts. 

 

Betty breathes out and then presses the call button. It rings two, three times. Four. Five. Maybe she should hang up. Everyone knows that millennials hate talking on the phone almost as much as they hate the president and saving money and as much as they love asymmetrical haircuts and avocado toast. She should hang up. Just one more ring. 

 

Then-- muffled, a hoarse voice says, “Hello?” 

 

“Jughead?” She has to ask, because it doesn’t exactly sound like him. The voice is deeper, more raspy. Maybe there was some kind of family thing and a male relative answered Jughead’s phone? 

 

A pause. “Yeah.” Another long pause, and Betty knew this was a bad idea. They should just hang up and shove this into the closet with Jughead’s ruined shoes and that kiss last fall. 

 

Then Jughead coughs, deeply, and Betty realizes. He’s not just too tired to make study group, not just making excuses. He’s  _ sick _ . 

 

“Jug?” She hates the way she defaults to high pitched feminine, how every sentence becomes a query. “Are you okay?” 

 

He sighs, and tries to clear his throat. It sounds painful even over the phone. 

 

“I’ll be fine. Just this fucking cough.” Jughead sniffles, and god, why does even that sound attractive? She’s such a pathetic, lovesick loser and she deserves their only moment being mostly filled with her puke on his shoes. 

 

“Sorry,” Betty says, even though she’s not entirely sure what she’s apologizing for. That he’s sick? That she can’t be there to make him feel better? That the only thing that will ever be between them is a desk? 

 

Jughead coughs again, and it sounds painful. 

 

“Didn’t really feel like getting up,” he admits after a moment. “I guess I don’t feel very good.” Something in Betty’s chest really wants out. Some sort of bird, maybe. An insect. (God, don’t let it be vomit.) 

 

Betty’s trying to think of something to say when there’s a vicious tap on the glass window of the study room door. Betty peers back at the door and Veronica’s face appears in the window, looking annoyed. 

 

“Look,” Betty says quickly. “Veronica’s ready to kill me if I don’t get back in there. Take care, okay?” 

 

Jughead laughs a little then, at least she thinks so. It turns into a gutteral hacking, and she has to hang up on pain of death. Or at least on pain of maybe not getting to share the group outline. If nothing else, Betty needs that outline. 

 

She’ll keep telling herself that she needs it because it’ll help her on the exam, not because she’s now dying to bring Jughead a nice, freshly-printed copy and some NyQuil. 

 

*** 

 

The rest of the study session is uneventful, but before they all go, Betty can’t help saying something. It bursts out of her in a rush. 

 

“Jughead’s not flaking on us. He’s really sick.” 

 

“Oh?” Veronica’s eyebrow quirks. Archie keeps rearranging his folders in his backpack like he’s doing anything to keep out of this conversation. 

 

“I don’t know. I just thought, um, that you guys should all know. And, uh, maybe we should print out a copy of the outline for him so he doesn’t have to get up early tomorrow and do it at the library.” She trails off lamely, desperately trying to lock eyes with Kevin, who’s suddenly incredibly interested in a highlighted footnote in his textbook. 

 

“C’mon, guys! Jug did a lot of this outline too, you know. He’s an integral part of this study group and-- and--” 

 

“Whoa there, Juliet, save some breath for the rest of us.” Kevin interjects with a hand on her shoulder. “No one here suggested Jughead wouldn’t get his copy of the outline.” 

 

“In fact, why don’t you bring it to him?” Veronica says coolly, tapping a manicured nail against the table. “Since you’re such a good  _ friend _ and all.” 

 

Betty sighs in relief, trying to ignore the fact that all of her friends know that she knows stupid details about stupid Jughead Jones, like that he doesn’t have a printer at his apartment or that she noticed that his voice sounded a little off yesterday or that she bets his hair looks really cute when it’s all sleep mussed. 

 

“Okay,” she says just as coolly, like it’s not a thrill expanding in her chest like a nuclear weapon. “I’ll go take it to him now.” 

 

*** 

 

Of course, it all sounded like a great idea in the moment. Maybe fluorescent library lighting made her lose her mind? 

 

Now that she’s here in the hallway of Jughead’s apartment building, her heart is pounding so hard she can hear it and it’d probably be better to just turn tail and go home. Put herself to bed early and be ready for the exam in the morning. 

 

But what about Jughead and the outline? She came all the way over here. 

 

Betty gathers her courage and knocks firmly on the door. 

 

*** 

 

She expected him to be sick, sure. But the man in front of her is a feverish mess. 

 

“Betty,” Jughead rasps in surprise. He scrubs a hand across his face. “Am I hallucinating?” 

 

Betty laughs nervously. “Uh, no. It’s really me. I thought I’d bring you the outline.” She produces the printed stack of paper, neatly clipped together. 

 

Jughead takes it from her with a look a little like reverence. 

 

“Here,” he says then. “Come in.” 

 

The apartment is organized chaos. More stupid facts Betty knows about Jughead Jones: he likes to make diagrams and charts when he studies using a large whiteboard. He has an elderly dachshund, Hot Dog, whose tail thumps merrily against his dog bed when he sees Betty. 

Betty’s been here before for study group sessions and get-togethers, but she’s never been here alone. She tiptoes after Jughead into the living room and stands awkwardly, watching him collapse onto the couch. 

 

“Sit,” he croaks, and she does, a friendzone-appropriate distance away. 

 

Betty tries not to notice how adorable he looks, even when his eyes are a little glassy and he’s sniffling and trying not to cough too much. 

 

Jughead looks like he’s trying to decide something, and she’s about to ask what when he scoots over on the couch until their thighs are touching. 

 

His head leans over to rest on her shoulder, and maybe he’s high on cough syrup and maybe she’s hallucinating, but his hand softly reaches over to find hers and his fingers intertwine with Betty’s. 

 

And then they’re kissing, and he tastes like artificial cherry and he’s warm, so warm, and Jughead breaks away to cough into his elbow. 

 

“Not exactly how I pictured that happening,” he says after he’s collected his breath. “But I’m glad it did.” 

 

“Me too.” Betty can’t help saying quickly, and then looks down at her lap, embarrassed. 

 

And then Jughead’s tilting her chin up with a finger. “Hey,” he says. “I really am glad.” He squeezes her hand and Betty thinks that she must be the one who’s hallucinating. 

 

Except he continues to be there, sweet and snuffly and for the first time, a little bit  _ hers _ . 

 

***

 

Betty’s not sure what happens then except that they both must’ve fallen asleep. She wakes up because Hot Dog is pushing his nose into her hand and she startles. 

 

“Oh,  _ God _ ,” she says, looking at her phone and realizing that it’s nearly 1 a.m. She hasn’t done any more studying, she hasn’t gone home and showered or to bed and the exam is in  _ eight hours _ . Shit. 

 

“Huh?” Jughead sits up from where his head was in her lap (!!!) and winces. “What’s wrong?” He sounds worse than before, like whatever medication he’d taken has worn off. 

 

“It’s late,” Betty says, scratching Hot Dog behind the ears. “We need to go to bed.” She feels herself blush as she say that-- she didn’t mean it that way!-- and is relieved when Jughead seems too fuzzy to get the double entendre. 

 

“It’s almost 1, Jug,” she says softly. “And the exam is at 9. I have to go.” She makes to stand up but Jughead catches her elbow. 

 

“Just stay for a few more minutes,” he says, and he looks so earnest and pitiful with his pink nose and flushed cheeks that she just has to indulge him (and, to be honest, herself). 

 

They sit together for a few more minutes until Jughead yawns and winces again. 

 

“I have the worst timing,” he moans into Betty’s shoulder. His voice cracks and he coughs. “You should just leave me to my misery. Let me fail Crim Pro alone.” 

 

“Shh,” Betty hushes him. “Say what you will about her classroom style, but Penny’s a fair grader. It’s the last exam of the semester and you’ll be able to rest all of winter break afterwards if you want.” 

 

“Mm,” Jughead agrees. “Only if I get to do some of it with you.” He nestles closer in to her side, and Betty sighs. She’s hook, line, and sunk. 

 

*** 

 

So she ends up staying, longer than she should. She takes Hot Dog out for a quick pee break, bundling him into an adorable little dog jacket. She doles out some more cold medicine for Jughead, who takes it meekly. Betty rummages around in his medicine cabinet for a thermometer and doesn’t find one, so she instead presses her lips to Jughead’s forehead and declares him “feverish, but not dangerously so.” 

 

Jughead jokes that he’s still dangerously hot, and they both laugh until Jughead has to cough and then leans back into Betty’s side. Hot Dog jumps up onto the couch and snuggles in next to them, too, and Betty feels like she really belongs. 

 

It’s still probably not her best idea ever-- to spend the night before a final exam nursing her crush to something resembling enough health to get him through said exam in the morning. She could be cramming a little more, reading over her outline, or, Jesus-- did she ever think of it?-- actually sleeping more than a few hours. 

  
But she’d rather be here. 

 

*** 


End file.
